Wednesday, April 24, 2013

“The only thing you got in this
world is what you can sell. And the funny thing is that you’re a salesman, and
you don’t know that.” —Charleyfrom Death of a
Salesman by Arthur Miller

Let’s take a poll. How many of you started writing
so that you could eventually achieve your life-long dream of pestering
strangers to buy your books? Raise your hands. Anyone?

That’s what I thought.

Traditional publishers still promote their authors,
although it’s expected that those authors will work equally as hard – if not
harder – to sell books. And if you go the self-published route, expect to do
more promotion than writing. (After all, indie writers, you have to find some
way to get readers’ attention. Amazon’s magic search algorithms can only do so
much.)

So what advice can I offer to help you promote your
work effectively? Damned if I know. But I can tell you a few things not to do (mostly because I’ve done
them).

Now
You Look Like an Author!

That’s what the administrative
assistant in the English Department where I teach said several years back when
I returned from break sporting a mustache and goatee. One aspect of promotion
is looking the part – although people’s expectations can vary as to exactly
what an author should look like. And if you’re a contrary fellow like me, you
hate letting other people’s perceptions make choices for you. Nevertheless,
looking the part can help.

I’m forty-nine now. When I was
thirty-one I was diagnosed with testicular cancer. The doctors caught it early,
surgery took care of it, and I’ve been fine ever since. But for a few years
after my cancer scare, I was a risk-taker. I’d beaten the Big C, so I wasn’t
afraid to try anything. Around this time I started attending the World Fantasy
Convention, and – reading somewhere that it was important for writers to create
a memorable look for themselves – I bought some weird ties (ones with skulls on
them, etc.) and decided to wear them with nice shirts, slacks, and shoes.

World Fantasy, for those of you
who don’t know, is a huge gathering of writers, publishers, editors, and agents
in the field of speculative fiction. No fans, just pros. Lots of business gets
done at this con every year, and it’s an excellent place to network and make
connections. The bar is a great place to network, as are publishers’ parties –
especially the invitation-only parties. One year, I’d learned where a private
party was taking place (offsite at another hotel), and I convinced some friends
to crash it with me. We hopped in a cab, found the hotel, located the party
suite, and entered. No one asked who we were and if we were supposed to be there.
My friends were nervous, but I – being full of cocky self-confidence – felt
relaxed and self-satisfied. I’d been aggressive, rolled the dice, and here I
was at a real publisher’s party.

It was a small party, with lots
of drinking and conversation going on. And everyone wanted to talk to me. And I
mean everyone. An attractive and
somewhat inebriated editor spent some time chatting me up, only to abruptly
turn away when she found out I was married. (“How nice for you!” she said
before turning her back on me.) Agents pulled me aside to chat, and while I
already had an agent, I was happy to get to speak with them and hear their take
on the current state of the publishing industry. One writer, who I’d met the
previous night, spent some time telling me about his idea for a young adult
novel. It was an interesting idea, but I couldn’t figure out why the writer
seemed so eager, and somewhat nervous, to talk to me about it. In fact, as the
party wound down, I began to wonder why everyone
seemed so eager to get to know me. No one was wearing nametags, and even if I
had been, no one would’ve recognized my name, not back then.

The next day the writer who told
me about his YA book approached me in the hotel lobby and apologized. Not only
had he been somewhat tipsy at the party, he’d forgotten that we’d been previously
introduced, and because I’d been wearing a tie, he’d assumed I was a new editor
who’d just started working for the publisher. He hadn’t been telling me about
his book. He’d been pitching it to
me.

That’s when I understood what had
happened at the party. Because of the way I was dressed, all the editors
thought I was an agent, and all the writers and agents thought I was an editor.
No one at the party thought I was a writer. If they had, they probably wouldn’t
have spoken with me at all.

At the next World Fantasy
Convention, I wore turtlenecks, jeans, and tennis shoes, and everybody knew I
was a writer.

Despite what we may wish,
appearances matter when it comes to promotion. I’ve given up trying to wear the
equivalent of costumes, though, and just dress like myself. The last event I
went to, I sat on a panel about fiction writing with several other writers,
three of whom were literary writers who taught in university creative writing
programs, and one of whom was a script writer. They all wore nice suits of
varying types. I showed up in a polo shirt, and the aforementioned jeans and
tennis shoes. These days, I’ll dress up for an awards banquet, but that’s about
it.

You need to think about what
signals your “look” will send to readers, too. Among women writers especially,
there’s some debate about whether and how much to use your sexuality as a
marketing tool. Do you wear a low-cut dress or not? A lot of makeup or a
little? As a male in my culture, these aren’t choices I’ve ever had to wrestle
with, but I know that many women do.

The
Aborted Launch

The book launch is something that
new writers love to do. If you’re a first-time novelist, why wouldn’t you want
to mark the release of your first book with an event? After all, it’s sure as
hell an event to you! Books launches can be fun, and you can take pictures or
video to post on your website or social media sites, so even if you don’t sell
a ton of books, you can still get promotional value from the event.

I’ve done one book launch. One.

My first published novel was a
humorous erotic mystery called Dying for
It. I wrote it because the editor, Russell Davis, and I had previously
collaborated on a short story featuring Xena the Warrior Princess for an
anthology. Russell contacted me, said he was working as an editor for a new
small-press publisher of erotica targeted to married couples, and would I like
to pitch some ideas to him? I said sure, partially because the project would
pay a professional-level advance, but mostly because it sounded like a fun
challenge. Could I write an erotic mystery? Could I write a good one? And what
the hell would a “good one” be, anyway?

When the book came out, I
contacted a local bookstore known for not only hosting events for authors on
major book tours, but also supporting local authors. The events coordinator was
happy to have me come to her store, a time for the event was set, and several
weeks later, I showed up, ready to talk about my book, do a reading from a
non-erotic passage (the reading was in public, after all, and kids might be
walking past), and hopefully sell and sign a few books. I knew mostly friends,
family, and coworkers were going to be in the audience, so I had no illusions
this was going to be a promotional event of any real magnitude, but I was
looking forward to experiencing what a book launch was like, especially with a
supportive audience.

But as soon as I arrived at the
store, the events coordinator came up to me, obviously nervous, and told me
that since I was a writing teacher, the people who showed up tonight would be
more interested in getting advice on how to publish their writing than in
hearing me read from my book. So that’s what I should do: talk about writing
and publishing. Not talk about Dying for
It, and I especially shouldn’t read from it.

I realized then what had
happened. The events coordinator hadn’t actually read my book until close to
the event, and perhaps she’d only skimmed it that morning. Once she knew it was
a book with S-E-X in it, she panicked. That didn’t bother me. What did brother
me was that she didn’t come out and tell me what the problem was. I’m a big
boy. I could’ve taken it.

Anyway, I stepped up onto the
stage (yes, they actually had a stage dedicated for special events) in front of
a dozen or more people, almost all of whom I knew, without any idea what the
hell I was going to say. I made it through the hour, but it was not a
particularly comfortable experience for me – especially when at one point one
of my friends called out, “When are you going to read from your book?” which
caused the event coordinator, who was sitting in the back, to go pale. Since
then I haven’t bothered with book launches – and especially not at that store.

So what are your take-aways from
this story? Tell the goddamned people at the bookstore what your book is about,
for one – and make sure they understand you. If your book has any content that
might be R or X-rated, I wouldn’t read from those sections unless that’s what
the audience is expecting. Most of all, be ready to roll with whatever might go
wrong with the event because something will. Sometimes the best way to promote yourself
to readers is to show them that not only are you human too, you can be flexible
and good-humored when things go wrong.

Readings,
Nothing More Than Readings

I may not do book launches per se
anymore, but I still do readings, mostly at conferences. I’ve read to a few
dozen people before, I’ve read to one person before, and I’ve sat in an empty
room for a while before giving up and leaving. Why do I do it? It’s fun (when
someone shows up, that is), and it’s an easy promotional activity since I don’t
get stage fright. (Teaching for thirty years is a big help in that department.)
And I get to list my readings on my merit pay application at my school every
year as scholarly activities. Cha-ching!

Readings at cons can be a mixed
bag. One year I did a reading next door to a performance of a Klingon opera. A
very LOUD performance. One year I did a reading at nine a.m. on a Sunday at
major con, after everyone had been up all night partying. As you might imagine,
I didn’t exactly have a packed house that morning.

Once I gave a reading at my
college. I was going to read a horror story, and a woman came in with her two
preschool age children and sat in the front row. I told her that I was going to
be reading a story with adult content, and she assured me that her children
would be fine. I shrugged, began reading, and the woman hurried her children
out of there before I was finished with the first sentence.

My advice for readings? Go into
them without any expectations. They’ll hurt less that way. As with other
events, have someone take pictures or video that you can use later. Even if you
end up reading to an empty room, that doesn’t have to show up on the pics or
the video. Have some kind of simple promotional material for people to take
with them that has your website address and social media contact info on it.
Bookmarks, fliers, etc. Author Mike Resnick autographs the hardcopy of his
story when he’s done with a reading and gives it to someone in the audience. If
you do this, make sure your address isn’t on the manuscript! Even if you’re at
a con that has a dealers room, it’s not a bad idea to bring some books to sell.
And if you do, get one of those cool card reader thingies you can use to take
debit/credit card payments with your phone. (I need to get off my ass and get
one myself.) Having business cards for people to take with them is good, and
again, make sure your website address, etc. is on the card. Don’t put any
contact info on your card you don’t want assorted strangers, stalkers, and creepers
to have, however.

Serving as a panelist at
conferences is similar to giving a reading, only you’re talking about a
particular topic related to writing or a specific genre like science fiction,
and you’re not the only person on the panel. Some people like to prepare for
panels. I just show up and do my best to contribute to the conversation. Like
readings, the size of the audience varies. Unlike readings, you need to be able
to share the time with your fellow panelists and not be a jerk. Have the same
promotional materials to pass out afterward as you do for readings. Don’t feel
like you’ve published enough to qualify for a panel? All you really need is to
be willing to share your thoughts and feelings about the topic. People are more
interested in what you have to say rather than what you’ve done.

Book
Fairs, Schmook Fairs

Last weekend, I attended an
author festival/book fair at a library about three-and-a-half hours’ drive from
where I live. Why did I go? Simple: they asked me. And I’d never done any kind
of promotional events in the northern part of my state, so I figured I’d schlep
on up there and see what it was like.

I didn’t have to bring my own
books, which was nice. A local bookseller brought books for those attendees who
weren’t self-published. (The bookseller, unsurprisingly, didn’t have to bring
many books.) There were probably two dozen authors in attendance, almost all of
them were self-published, and their promotional displays ranged from
professionally done to – I kid you not – printouts of text taped to poster
board. The library staff did their best to promote the event, but during the
three hours it lasted, very few patrons came into the room where the event was
being held, and those who did browsed without buying. Mostly, authors wandered
around the room, talking to each other and networking.

One author told me he was
planning a twenty-six to thirty-four book series, and that he wanted to find a
publisher because he wanted to focus all his time on writing the books rather
than trying to sell them himself.

Several writers asked me if I
knew of any other good book fairs or events where they could sell their work.
There were a lot of conversations like that going on around me. What could I
say to them? “Um . . . my books come out from real publishers who pay me
advances and then market my books, so I don’t usually do events like this
because, you know, I don’t have to.” I
don’t think so.

A writer was visiting tables
because she was writing an article on whether editing was important for
writers, and she wanted to get quotes from all the authors there. (My answer to
her question: Yes. Hell, yes.)

The bookseller, for whatever
reason, didn’t have copies of one of the few professionally published writers
in attendance, a literary author named Pauline Chen. Ms. Chen quite classily
took this development in stride, smiled, told the bookseller that was okay,
then gathered her promotional materials and left. Why should she stick around
if she didn’t have any books to sell? (I suspect by that point she’d gotten a
read on the room, realized that most everyone was a newbie self-pubber, and
that almost no one was going to show up to the event, and she was happy to have
an excuse to beat feet.)

I made a round trip of about
seven hours, and I sold no books that day. (The most common comment I got from
browsers was some variation of: “Horror, huh? I don’t read that stuff. Keeps me
up at night.”) I didn’t really expect to sell any, to be honest. It was just an
experiment, and it turned out pretty much the way I thought it would. I was
surprised that there were so many self-published writers who seemed clueless
about . . . well, everything to do
with publishing and promoting. It’s not as if they can’t find out information
about promoting books by hitting the Internet. I wasn’t surprised that the
people who did show up didn’t buy books (not just from me, but from most of the
other writers, too). It was a
library, after all. And I wasn’t surprised that no one was interested in
horror. It’s a genre for readers with more refined tastes, after all. (Taste in
what, precisely, I’ll leave you to
ponder.) But it did reinforce one of my beliefs about mass events like this. It
may seem like the more authors in attendance, the more attractive the event
will be to readers. But readers only have so much money to spread around, and
they certainly don’t want to have to avoid eye contact with every desperate
author there who gives them a hard-sell about his or her book. A lot of folks
just stay away from such events. At a genre-focused conference, having shared
signings or even mass signings can work well. Some of the attendees came to the
con in order to meet writers and get books signed, after all. But the random
book fair in small-town America? It might be a good place to get some practice
promoting (and more importantly do some networking with other writers) when you’re
starting out – and you can still get those pics and vids of yourself in action for
later use. But otherwise . . . I wouldn’t recommend them.

On
the Internet, No One Knows You’re a Dog

Experts – whoever the hell they
are – say that for every sales message you put out into the virtual world, you
should put out five non-sales messages. If you’re a relentless self-promotion
machine, people quickly tune you out. There’s one gentleman on Facebook who
every year posts a birthday message on my page. It goes something like this: “On
your special day, why not treat yourself to some great fiction? I’ve recently
published A LIST OF BOOKS ABOUT A MILE LONG. Enjoy!” I will never read this guy’s
books. Never. Ever. Why don’t I just unfriend him? I’m a nice guy. Besides, he
only posts a message like that on my page once a year. If he did it more often,
I’d defriend and block him. And perhaps it’s occurred to me that by allowing
him to make a jackass of himself on my page, I get the pleasure of watching him
cut his own throat sales-wise. Then again, maybe that hasn’t occurred to me.
Like I said, I’m a nice guy.

Watch out for being viewed as a
spammer on message boards. When my third Leisure novel Darkness Wakes came out, I was told that if it didn’t sell well
enough, they wouldn’t publish a fourth novel from me. So I decided to quit
being lazy about promoting online (this was pre-Facebook) and dropped by
various message boards letting folks know about my novel. I wasn’t always an
established member of these communities and people pointed at me like Donald
Sutherland in the 1970’s version of Invasion
of the Body Snatchers and screamed “Spaaaaaammer!” I then made the mistake
of replying to one of those threads and explained why I was so clumsily trying
to drum up sales for Darkness Wakes.
This resulted in a number of people who thought they were coming to my aid
posting on various sites – including Leisure’s – about how stupid Leisure was
to treat one of their authors this way, that they would be morons to let me go,
etc. The folks at Leisure Were Not Amused. I didn’t get to do another novel for
them (which turned out to a blessing considering how their company imploded not
too long afterward). Did they drop me partially because of the bad publicity I
unknowingly engendered, minor though it was? Probably not. But my advice is to
tread carefully and mindfully when promoting on the Interwebz.

Oh, and about blogs? It might be
a good idea to write one more than once every few months. (And maybe someday I’ll
actually listen to my own advice.)

Workshop
Til You Drop

I was having coffee with author
Ty Schwamberger the other day, and we were talking about promotional events. He
mentioned he was thinking of setting up a signing at a bookstore when his next
book was released. I suggested he offer a talk on publishing or maybe a
workshop of some kind as well. I told him that people aren’t interested in what
we have to sell to them. They want to get something other than a sales message,
especially something they can use.

Teaching other people to write
can be a great way to promote your own work while serving others, which as far
as I’m concerned is a win-win for everyone involved. I don’t use the college
classes I teach as promotional venues, however, because that would be unethical.
I donate copies of my books to the college library so that any students
interested in my work can check it out without having to buy it. But doing
workshops at conferences and other events can be a great way to promote your
writing.

Recommended
Resource

There are tons of how-to-promote-your-writing
books out there, but my favorite is Guerilla
Marketing for Writers. It has hundreds of ideas for marketing and
promotion, and best of all, they’re categorized in terms of how much effort and
money they take – which makes this book perfect for all kinds of writers.

Department
of Shameless Self-Promotion

My novel Supernatural: Carved in Flesh has just been released in both print
and ebook formats. Follow hunters Sam and Dean Winchester as they discover the
sinister truth behind the Frankenstein legend!

“What Once Was Flesh” appears in Vampires Don’t Sparkle.

“The Great Ocean of Truth”
appears in Fear the Abyss.

“Thou Art God” appears in Dark Faith: Invocations.

And speaking of promotional
activities, I’ll be attending the World Horror Convention/Bram Stoker Awards
Weekend in New Orleans June 13-16. I’ll be doing a reading, participating in the
mass autograph signing, and serving on panels. And who knows? Maybe I’ll crash
a private party or two for old times’ sake.